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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28368267">Epicurious</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/regsregis/pseuds/regsregis'>regsregis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Borderlands (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, It’s not super graphic unless you think about it too hard, M/M, Medical Horror, Mind Manipulation, cnc cannibalism, extreme dubcon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:56:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,657</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28368267</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/regsregis/pseuds/regsregis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the lovely Ghost thanks to whom this idea has been living rent free in my head for days now and Fran raving on and on about cannibal Jack</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Epicurious</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rhys slowly exhales a sigh of relief, watching Jack meticulously prepare his work station. The circular saws, the dainty forceps, sutures, heaps of gauze and the caliper he has just used to take Rhys' exact measurements.<br/>
He's scared. Petrified even. Of course he is, but after Jack took his right arm, the anticipation was simply killing him. Anticipation or eagerness, it’s hard to tell the two apart these days. It’s hard to tell anything apart these days but the dual colour of Jack’s eyes when they bore into him.<br/>
At least now he knows which part of his body Jack is going to take next. And when.</p><p>
  <i>Now.</i>
</p><p>He asked, so many times before, but Handsome Jack is a fickle creature driven by its desires and hunger, and while the food lasted him, he took a more carnal interest in Rhys, his plans kept close to his heart, beneath the tears soaked shirt and amongst the raspy pleas Rhys fed into his chest. </p><p>Nothing but fleeting moments of weakness.</p><p>It came with it's perks, the entire arrangement did in fact. Jack was spoiling him rotten, feeding him the tastiest of morsels, letting Rhys bask in the lap of luxury. Had something to do with the quality of the taste he said. Just like the pineapple he liked on his pizza, something that initially caught Jack’s attention and he never denied Rhys this particular treat. </p><p>Though Rhys liked to entertain the idea the man took a shine to him. There was no one left to trample over his delusions anymore.</p><p>"Jack?" eventually he breaks the silence, fingers curled around the handle of the wheelchair he's sat in. He has to call again before Jack notices him and comes over. He always does and this single act is more meaningful than anything else Jack does for him. No one on Helios could even dream of demanding Handsome Jack's attention like that. Of the man in question always finding time for them, rain or shine if Rhys called, he'd be there for him.</p><p>"What is it, pumpkin?" Jack comes to kneel before Rhys, near reverent and with his mismatched eyes burning with focus yet voice sweet and heady.</p><p>"Jack..." his throat is dry and he idly touches the man's face, suddenly terrified of the idea that this is the very last time he will ever be able to do that, "...you have taken my right arm, now you will take my left arm...what's gonna happen next?" </p><p>Jack nearly nuzzles into the touch, tired, bright eyes disappearing for a split second behind the sweep of his eyelashes, "I will take your right leg." </p><p>Rhys swallows, thickly, a tremble betraying his anxiety running from his core to the tips of his fingers, "...and then?" </p><p>"And then the left leg," Jack humours him with an answer.</p><p>"..and then?" he chances a follow up question, heart caught in his throat.</p><p>"And then pumpkin," Jack leans closer, the kiss of his words imprinted on Rhys' skin, "...then you will truly understand the honor of becoming Handsome Jack's prized meal," there are too many teeth in Jack's smile, taking Rhys back to the first weeks he had spent with the man.</p><p>He really did think it was an honor when he was first chosen by Jack. If only he had known what for back then, Rhys might have ran, but that was...too many months ago to count. Maybe even a year.</p><p>He had walked into the CEO's office with all the confidence his meager position didn't warrant and fear of god in his heart. Until Jack told him he got promoted. </p><p>To <i>houvre d'oeuvres. </i></p><p>He took the arm the same evening.</p><p>With saws and scalpels and knives, he pulled apart the skin and sinew, cutting around the ball of his joint. Rhys watched whenever he resurfaced from the delirium of fear and pain, treading the tightrope, with the sweet relief of unconsciousness on one side and the waking nightmare on the other.<br/>
Jack wasn't cruel. Not when it wasn't called for at least, that's what he said so he didn't let rhys go without the assistance.<br/>
'But no crutches!' Jack also said when he denied Rhys any anesthesia and instead, rubbed the ammonia over his upper lip. So Rhys wouldn't tilt either way.</p><p>Rhys screamed till his throat was raw and then some more. Nearly bit his tongue off until Jack put a bite guard in his mouth and laid a kiss on his forehead.</p><p>Jack helps him out of the wheelchair, large hands so careful around his body, cradling him as if Rhys was about to fall apart in his arms and slip through the fingers. He can just about spot the bottle of ammonia on a medical tray jack brought in on the trolley, next to the familiar bite guard that has indentations which undoubtedly match his teeth print.</p><p>The medical bed creaks under his weight and Rhys idly thinks of struggling, of taking Jack by a surprise and freeing himself but then those large hands are on his chest and he shivers, craving nothing more but for that touch to bypass the thin cloth, the skin stretched over his ribs, the visceral feeling of Jack elbows deep in his chest cavity. A thought that the other man has carefully planted in his head and then fostered it over the recent months. Rhys can't deny his own cravings, alien as they initially were, they come at the highest cost of his limbs, his own flesh and the searing pain but he's beginning to believe Jack when he says it's worth it.</p><p>Whenever those thoughts of freedom come to him, Rhys' mind wanders back to a sneaky peek he had stolen once. Jack sat by his massive dining table, lush decorations dripping with melted wax and gold and fruits of greatest rarity.<br/>
A simple, elegant white platter, cured meat cut with a scalpel like precision into thin sheets laid out interchangeably with truffles and mizuna leaves. Pumpkin seeds oil which Jack had joked about pairing his 'pumpkin' so well earlier, drizzled, and red splatters of pomegranate seeds complimenting the composition.<br/>
Jack had turned a simple meal into an act of obscene art.<br/>
He must have heard the younger man lingering in uncertainty and sheer wraps of the linens Jack had gifted him, a spectre stuck beyond the doorway until he would be invited. And invite him in Jack did, fed him one of the slices with a silver fork that glided smoothly over his lips when Jack pulled it free. Then he had let Rhys rest at his feet with his weary head braced against Jack's thigh.</p><p>It..tasted ordinary. Expensive but...it was not the groundbreaking revelation Jack hyped it to be, leaving Rhys that night with an aftertaste of disappointment and cum on his tongue.</p><p>Would perhaps Jack taste better? A dangerous thought that sneaked into his mind while he kept his lips pliantly open, a hint of teeth grazing Jack's cock and bringing a hiss out of the man. </p><p>Rhys had not bitten down that night. Not while he still had most of his limbs and wits about him. But with every piece Jack took from him, the latter was slipping his grasp precociously. </p><p>Jack takes his time clipping the tourniquet across his chest, compression cutting off some of the blood flow and soon the tips of fingers turn numb. A rehearsal of sorts, the ‘phantom limb’ and Rhys is the star of that play or maybe just the spectator as a man in a mask takes the fiddle from his hands and plays the tune for just the two of them. Or <i>maybe </i>it’s just his heart thrashing in its cage.</p><p>Rhys wonders if Jack will eat it too. It already feels like it belongs to him, it beats however Jack wants it to and answers his call and his call only. Rhys doesn’t know, but he hopes his heart will join his limbs and eyes and maybe a few slices of the liver Jack can safely extract on the menu. He told him about the eyes while snacking on crackers with cream cheese and caviar. In that moment, Rhys couldn’t help but admire Jack’s particular flair for dramatics, despite the creeping terror of a world he could hear and smell but not one he could see or touch.</p><p>The knife parts the skin between the topmost ray of the sun crowning his shoulder and the center of the design, and Rhys submits to the feeling, letting the more primal part of him take over. It tears his mouth open and births a clawed scream that shreds his throat.</p><p>As soon as the arm will come off, Jack will be on him, pulling the bite guard he has just fitted in between Rhys’ teeth to take his mouth and tongue, just like the last time. But this time, Rhys will be smarter. He has promised Jack he will be. So instead of weak struggles and faint ‘nos’ he will savor this moment. Hapless and vulnerable, made for the taking. But oh so very important.</p><p>“We’re making the world go round,” Jack reminds him, “never forget it Rhysie, you and I…” the blade reaches the bone and Rhys chokes on his tears, light headed and sweating. “...we are a team! Without you…” the man shakes his head and Rhys can feel the deep sadness seeping through the blinding pain and terror numbing his senses, something coming from Jack himself, “I don’t know if I could keep doing what I do. Saving everyone...being a hero...keeping Hyperion at the top of its game. But you babe, you’re one damn, good thing in my life, you will not leave me.”</p><p>“Yes, Jack.” Rhys agrees, politely, despite eyelashes clumped with tears.</p><p>For every hero makes sacrifices, and Rhys is the sacrifice Jack has to make for the greater good. For them all.</p>
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